Generations
by Firefly99
Summary: MGS1, 2 and 4. Snake/Otacon. On realising something at the very last minute. For the MGS kink meme.


The first time had been all energy, all new and weird and intriguing, with them both mutually, laughingly seducing each other into it before either of them fully realised what had happened. Snake had curled up against the wall, and they'd been as silent as they could, because Nastasha was downstairs and they could hear her heels clicking up and down the halls.

When Otacon had realised what he was doing, he'd nearly had a heart-attack - _this is - I'm with a man - what happened?!_ - but by then, they'd both finished and Snake had laid down a patchwork of tissues over the floor and was now smoking, dazed, and glowing - pristine, young, far too stupidly handsome for what he was for, like an actor playing a mercenary. And Otacon had snuck into the shower, watched the water spiral down from the head like a ladder of DNA, tried to make himself feel something negative, and failed.

_Because maybe this would **work** - _

And then there was one of the many times, in downtime, when there was nothing else to do. Otacon had been, shamefully, watching some rather more risque than usual video, when Snake had entered, and, without having said anything, knelt between Otacon's legs.

And Otacon had tried to keep his eyes off the bobbing head and keep them focused on Yuka Kosaka, but he didn't think Yuka-san's lips would feel that _rough_ and _hard_ and _good_ every time they brushed against him, and he knew that Snake was the only person in the world who knew him well enough to know exactly how to make him _work_. For Snake, he censored out the word he was really moaning, twisted it into a sibilant wail, because that was the fiction he had to keep, at least for himself.

Then they'd gone on the internet and watched the lower-case numbered people argue over whether the man standing next to him was alive or dead, good or bad, real or fiction.

_And it had been like he was almost **slipping** - _

And the last time, there is no passion.

Just the comfortable pleasure of having grown around each other, like a rambling rose as blue as his eyes, as fake and designed and dyed.

He's not so good any more. Not with himself. Even with Otacon having worn knot-holes into his body where the pleasure spots are, David can't get thick enough for anything.

He's not so Solid these days.

It's a sick little pun, and as Otacon thinks of it, he realises there's none of the way he'd had to awkwardly dodge Naomi's heels (she'd laughed and cringed and laughed harder and he'd laughed harder and rubbed the graze on his leg and Snake had leant back and groaned for them to _shut up in there because Sunny and I need our damn sleep_), none of the way Wolf had brushed that handkerchief into his hand (he'd flushed and hadn't been able to make a sound, but she was silent too and she had such patient eyes and they were smiling, so maybe she'd liked that), none of the smell of chlorine that had been in Julie's hair (and she'd been just as damaged as any of them, because there were some things he couldn't resist in anyone).

There's everything of him and Snake in this, though.

And as Otacon moans, Dave looks for a second like he'd cough, but he manages to choke it down anyway. His body doesn't move that well any more. Inertia.

And he eventually finishes, managing not-enough of useless, dead seed, and Otacon's overwhelmed by the smell of cardboard and stale testosterone as that scarred face leans in to give him an awkward, fumbling kiss, hair shining in the light of the computers as translucent and fine as a baby's.

_Took too much out of me_, he says. He doesn't speak much any more. He says it hurts his throat too much to talk. Besides, they don't need to. _Damn. Never doing that again._

_Not even if you fall in love?_ Otacon jokes, and he looks down at him and all of a sudden he _knows_, and it clenches at his chest to see all those ten years, how _much_ and how _entirely_ and how not even that whirlwind first time had an ounce of the passion he was really feeling, and it would break his heart again but it's made of steel and scars now.

They fall asleep on top of each other and Otacon smiles at the way Snake's heartbeat is still slower than normal.

_Because you made it in the end._


End file.
